


Shop Around: Epilogue

by astrosaur



Series: Shop Around [2]
Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Sexy Zone
Genre: M/M, complete and utter fluff, literally that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrosaur/pseuds/astrosaur
Summary: Fuma and the rest return to reality, post-reality TV.





	Shop Around: Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Follows [Shop Around](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10583475/chapters/23390571) \- this won't make a lot of sense on its own. Posting separately because I'm protective of my miracle word count, tbh :)

            “Look at us, wired like government spies again. Just like old times.” Hokuto fiddles with the microphone wire snaking around his torso. Next to him, Kento reaches over and helps readjust his microphone. “Ah, thanks.”

            Kento pats his chest over the microphone clip when he’s done, making one of the sound guys jump and hurriedly yank his earphones off. “Sorry!”

            “Alright, guys, there’s no need to be nervous,” Sakurai assures them. “You’ve done been here before, and the hard part’s over. Think of the reunion episode as a victory lap.”

            The twelve contestants and their once eligible bachelor settle into their seats in a brightly lit studio, as they and a live audience are given instructions to observe silence in preparation for filming.

            Sakurai kicks things off with a cheerful greeting, and immediately goes over timeline details for the TV viewers’ benefit. “Although we only aired the finale a week ago, filming for the show wrapped up back in May. Therefore, there’s been time for things to settle – and perhaps develop – since the events that transpired on that night that our bachelor made his final choice.” He turns to Fuma. “First things first, the question on everyone’s minds. Fuma-kun, how are you and Hokuto-kun holding up?”

            “Nothing’s changed between us,” Fuma answers. “That is, we never took things any further.”

            “That’s a shame!” Sakurai says to the tune of the studio audience’s collective disappointed groan. He is, of course, feigning ignorance and pretending not to have read the primer that Fuma’s team armed him with. “You mean, after that kiss…?”

            “After that, we talked it out. We came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t work out between us. There were far too many external factors, in short. Distance and conflicting schedules, for instance.”

            Hokuto manages to look perfectly neutral when he adds, “Among other things.”

            There is clearly a story there that Sakurai will not touch with a ten-foot pole. “I see. That means both of you are back in the market, so to speak?”

            Fuma extends a hand towards Hokuto, gesturing for him to answer. “I’m seeing someone, actually,” Hokuto says.

            “Oh, is that so?”

            Hokuto nods his confirmation.

            “We can do a roundtable and get that question out of the way,” Fuma suggests. “Let’s go around the room to see who here is a single Pringle and who’s a taken bacon.”

            They start off with Yuma, following their elimination order. Yuma sets the bar with no more than a vague contribution of “it’s complicated.” Ryuji and Marius follow that up by proclaiming their singlehood with divergent levels of contentment, with the former seeming much more complacent about his status.

            Sou is the first to share good news on the relationship front. A ripple of genuine shock passes through the room at his candidness, without exception, which in turn catches Sou off-guard.

            “Was I not supposed to tell?” he asks, placing a hand on Shori’s shoulder.

            Shori turns around (he’s sitting a row in front of him) and blinks at him.

            “Wait a minute.” Kouchi points between Sou and Shori. “What does this mean?”

            “Eh! How did that happen?” Taiga asks, scooting forward so he’s literally on the edge of his seat.

            Sou clams up, afraid of blurting out any more details without an explicit go-ahead. Thankfully, Shori fields the question. “I had free time after I left the show, and I went on a trip with a friend of mine. I ended up visiting Sou in Shizuoka to see how he was doing.”

            Jesse, also situated at the back row, reaches diagonally to nudge Shori. “You went all that way to check up on him?”

            “Yes,” Shori admits readily, if not awkwardly. “First of all, he was mailing me non-stop for three days after I told him I had a friend planning to go to Mt. Fuji. I tagged along with my friend and I made that detour like Sou suggested. But then I ended up staying an extra week longer than I was supposed to, at his dad’s insistence.”

            “It was at my insistence!” Sou raises his hand, not at all looking guilty over it. “I told my dad to force you to stay.”

            “How sly of you.” Shori makes his lack of surprise evident.

            Fuma goes out of order then to zero in on Juri and Shintaro. “You two aren’t going to be defeated by the chibi’s, are you?”

            Juri shakes with laughter. “What’s with that?”

            “How are we supposed to ‘defeat’ them?” Shintaro wants to know.

            Fuma and the others badger them for a schmaltzy backstory following their ouster. They offer up guesses on what might have transpired, noisily overlapping with one another. A popular hypothesis is that they traumatized the driver that brought them back home after their elimination night with a bit of semi-public indecency.

            “Not in front of the kids!” Kento says, only half-joking, leaping up to belatedly cover Sou and Marius’s ears.

            “Seriously!” Fuma seconds, shaking his head mock-disapprovingly. “Enough stalling. Give us the verdict: what happened between you two?”

            “We’re dating,” Shintaro says. Unnecessarily, he adds, “Each other.”

            “We knew that part! Read the air a little. The audience is waiting for the lovey-dovey get-together scoop.”

            In a transparent ploy to divert attention from himself and Shintaro, Juri nods at Jesse seated next to him. “The question is, what happened with you and Kouchi?”

            Jesse clearly does not expect the question. “What about me and—? No, no, no. We’re friends.”

            Kouchi’s only contribution to that is a cheery amendment of “BFF’s!”

            “Yes, very good friends, but that’s all. I’m not – and he doesn’t – so we’re buds.” (“ _Best buds!_ ”) “Right. We got an awesome friendship out of the show.”

            Taiga contorts his face into a parody of sympathy. “Blink once if you got friend-zoned, twice if you truly mean a single word coming out of your mouth.”

            Jesse doesn’t quite decipher the instructions in time and blinks as he normally does, and both Taiga and Shintaro get up to their feet to point at him triumphantly.

            After Sakurai gets them to settle back down, he assesses the group to check who else needs to be put on the hot seat. “Who does that leave us with?”

            “These two have boyfriends.” Fuma points to Hokuto and Kento.

            “Kento-kun as well?” Kento nods once. Sakurai is thrown off by his straightforward confirmation and subsequent refusal to elaborate. He pivots back to the larger group. “Well then. Let’s see, did we miss anyone…? Taiga-kun?”

            “There’s someone,” Taiga answers with a small, almost playful upturn on one side of his mouth. “As of two days ago.”

            Sakurai repeats his answer with TV-friendly astonishment and congratulates him. Just as the topic seems to come to a natural end, he circles back to Fuma. “Fuma-kun, we’ll end with you. You never answered the question yourself.”

            _Busted_. “There’s someone I’m interested in.” Fuma is rather proud of the honesty he packs into the short statement, no matter how incomplete.

            Sakurai, of course, latches on to the tiny morsel of newsworthy potential. “Is this someone you met after the show wrapped?”

            “It was around the middle of it.”

            “Of course I have to ask, would it be someone _from_ the show?”

            The studio audience shrieks on cue, and Fuma scratches a phantom itch on his nape. “That would be giving away the answer. My fans are smart, sophisticated stalkers – they’ll figure it out whether we spell it out for them or not.”

            Sakurai catches Tomo having a mini-aneurysm in the sidelines and helps her out, laughingly dismissing Fuma’s joke about his fans’ excessive aptitude in idol research. He turns serious again when he goes back to grilling Fuma. “And this person you’re interested in, is he the reason you and Hokuto-kun never pursued a relationship?”

            What is with this investigative journalism coming from a reality TV show host? “I believe I gave the reasons for that a while back.”

            “Fair enough. I’ll ask a new question. Would you have changed anything you did on the show? For example, would you do something to change the fact that the last two men you were choosing between are now ‘taken bacons,’ to borrow a phrase.”

            Fuma puts aside his exasperation over Sakurai’s persistent questioning, long enough to allow an authentic smile to emerge. “I’m happy with how things turned out. Just to name one thing, Nakajima’s boyfriend is really good for him.”

            “You think so?” Kento laughs, surprised to be called out. “Well, I’m biased, but I agree.”

            “What about Hokuto-kun’s boyfriend?” Sakurai asks.

            Fuma taps his chin, the very image of impartiality. “I’ve only met him once or twice, but when you see them together, it’s like they’re on a perpetual honeymoon.”

            Instead of getting embarrassed, Hokuto turns to smirk at Kento. “Kento and his boyfriend can’t keep their hands off each other.”

            Jesse leans forward as if he’s about to share a secret. “They led us to believe they’re uncomfortable with PDA, but when they get into it, it’s like it slips their minds that other people are in the room.”

            “Nakajima’s boyfriend says he’s a nuisance, and I have to agree,” Fuma offers.

            Kento points at himself with an incredulous look. “Are you saying I’m the one to blame?”

            “Okay, answer this for me. Did your boyfriend paint _his_ jeans on this morning too, or was it just you?”

            “Fuma! You shouldn’t talk to someone’s boyfriend like that!” Yuma says without an ounce of gravitas. Marius adds a giggling warning that such an observation from Fuma would surely get him beaten up.

            “You’re all perverts! All I’m saying is Nakajima’s boyfriend probably has to make sure his circulation isn’t getting cut off because of how tight those pants are!” Fuma protests in vain as the others take turns ribbing him for the half-baked attempt at stealth.

 

\- X -

 

            “It would be helpful if we could get through this meeting without Fuma texting his wife every five seconds. I get that you’re newlyweds and all, but it would be great if you could save that for when we aren’t supposed to be ironing out the kinks for a concert that starts in a week.”

            Fuma rolls his eyes and corrects them. “He’s the Madonna, not the wife.”

            His band members look at each other, bewildered. They let it go in the end, since it isn’t exactly the first time he’s said something that went over their heads.

            Not contrite in the least, Fuma continues to crop the picture he’d just taken while partially listening to the discussion taking place in the room. Objectively speaking, he’s not as bad as his bandmates, his manager, and various staff members would purport. But when he spots Kento’s name in one of the fan letters in his pile, what other choice does he have but to spread the word?

            Since the show ended, he’s received more than one type of fan correspondence referencing Kento. Nothing less than the cream of the crop gets photographed and sent to the other man – Fuma’s definitely not as annoying as his bandmates make him out to be. He only passes along high quality wit, borderline pornography, hardcore pornography, and fanart that showcases either of the two extreme ends of artistic talent.

            This particular letter may not fall in any of those categories, but it helps that it’s a lovely little piece of encouragement with a side of ego boost: _“I think I saw Nakajima-kun with his boyfriend on the train today. You’re waaaaaaay better-looking than him, so take a chance! I believe in you!”_

            Fuma laughs quietly when he receives Kento’s prompt reaction to the fan letter. _I wonder which boyfriend they saw?! I’ll have them know that all five of my boyfriends are extremely hot._

            He disregards Tomo shooting a withering look his way, long enough to type out a quick response. _Five, huh?_ _You didn’t tell me you were making up for lost time._

            He makes a show of putting his phone down on the table for his manager and his group to see. He later wishes he hadn’t, because he’s picking it back up again in a matter of seconds, when the tantalizing blinking light notifies him of a reply. _I know that was a joke, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. Because in all seriousness, I snagged the absolute best boyfriend of all time. (heart emoji)_

_You sure about that? Mitsuko from Kanagawa says I’m waaaaay better-looking than him._

_She’s your fan, she’s supposed to say that. (laughing emoji) That’s too cute that you get messages like that, though. It makes you wish you could just tell them._

            At first, he just sends Kento a question mark. Eventually, he follows it up with: _You’re the only one saying we can’t. Tomo and the band gave their clearance. Hell, my family’s on board._

            The messaging app indicates that Kento’s typing, and Fuma’s eyes are glued to the screen when that stays unchanged for a prolonged moment. He ignores the annoyed glares coming from all directions. In the minor build-up of suspense, he wonders if Kento put down his phone to attend to something else mid-sentence or if he’s actually typing out a thousand-word essay in one go.

            Finally, he receives a message that’s far shorter than he’d anticipated, based on the length of time it took Kento to craft.

_You asked your family about going public with it?_

            _They volunteered their permission. Unsolicited._ It’s technically true. He’d floated the idea by them without explicitly asking for permission, and they just offered it up on cue, knowing their eldest son far too well.

            _Oh._

A second message comes shortly afterwards: _I still think you’ll look like a fickle douchebag if you tell everyone we’re together now._

Followed by a third: _The timing can be better._

And a fourth: _It’s hasn’t been a full two weeks since your fans watched you swap spit with Hokuto while violins played in the background._ (Kento is misremembering what happened, because Fuma is 100% certain there that there were no violins involved in that scene. Or tongue, for that matter.)

            And a fifth: _It’ll look like you just turned around and changed your mind at the end._

            He gets a second-long reprieve from the torrent of messages, and he takes the opportunity get a word in edgewise.

            _That’s pretty much how it went down, except that it happened three months ago._ He takes pains to elaborate, so that Kento can’t misinterpret his words. _The change in feelings wasn’t abrupt, but the way the I reversed the decision was._

            The reply doesn’t come until a full fifteen minutes later, enough that Fuma is free to participate better in his meeting. In that time, he addresses the tidbits of discussion he managed to hear. When he picks up his phone again, he promises his band that he’s going to turn it off. And he plans to do just that, right after reading the new message that just came in.

            _The point is, there’s no need to give idiots another chance to misunderstand you._

            After sending out one last message about being potentially murdered by his coworkers, Fuma delves into work matters as promised. He allows himself one moment of relief, heartened that he and Kento have at least moved on from arguing about whether they should go public with their relationship at all.

 

\- X -

 

            Kento has no shame in partaking one particular perk that comes with dating an idol – namely, the unlimited choice of seating at said idol’s concert, lotteries be damned. For the first show of Fuma’s tour, he brings Shori, Sou, and Marius along with him, and cajoles them into joining him in buying out all the merchandise at the venue.

            Kento’s loyalty extends as far as having a Fuma uchiwa larger than the rest, but his arms are adorned with bracelets of all of his group’s members, and he’s packed away six other handheld posters in his rotation. He can’t be empty-handed when another person is performing their solo, after all.

            The second Fuma’s band is introduced with a seizure-inducing lightshow, Kento, Sou, and Marius are all cheering at the top of their lungs. Next to them, Shori smiles from ear-to-ear and bumps Sou’s shoulder, partly out of affection and partly to poke fun at the latter’s groupie antics.

            Fuma doesn’t have to seek them out to be fully aware of their presence, despite the fact that he’s in the middle of grueling choreography. His eyes have a will of their own, gravitating to the row that contains his self-proclaimed most dedicated fan.

            Although it’s a little nerve-wracking to have his starry-eyed boyfriend in the audience, Fuma makes it through the first set with minor incident. He does crash into a back-dancer and sends him sprawling to the floor, and he does go flat on one challenging, elongated note, but it’s all par for course for a first show in the tour.

            Then, because his group members are jerks, they insist on calling out Kento’s presence during the MC, along with Shori’s, Sou’s, and Marius’. The venue erupts in girlish screams as soon as they’re named, and Fuma thinks he should be insulted that the mention of his boyfriend and friends have garnered the most ear-piercing reception thus far.

            His group’s leader coyly proposes to call the four up to the stage. “Kento-kun plays the piano, right?”

            The high-pitched cheering, inconceivably, gets even louder.

            “What?” Fuma catches his four VIP guests yelling something, and he raises a finger up to his lips for the larger audience, signaling them to quiet down so he can make out what the four are trying to tell him. “What are you guys saying?”

            He catches strains of a few words from them and deciphers it for the onlookers. “They said Shori can play the guitar.”

            “What’s with that, are they forming a rival band?” one member jokes, as another excitedly suggests that they collaborate.

            “We already get fan letters for these guys, plus everyone else Fuma tried to date on that show.”

            “That’s true. It’s like we’re their agency by proxy.”

            “Fuma, what should we do? They want to see us collaborate with your – uh. Let’s call them exes.”

            “Let’s not call them exes,” Fuma says.

            “I can think of at least one song that could really use someone who’s proficient with the piano.” The band, besides Fuma, chimes in with agreement. The bewildered audience can only assume it’s an inside joke.

            It turns out that they were going for a timely segue, as they explain to the audience that an experienced piano player could do justice to the upcoming song. The next song also happens to be Fuma’s solo, and with that, they send him off so he can change his costume and get into position.

            “I wonder which song it’s going to be!” Marius says under his breath as the remaining band members chat aimlessly among themselves. “Do you know, Kento-kun?”

            Kento scans his memory of the numerous times they talked about Fuma’s setlist, but he can’t pick out any one song that might work especially well with an acoustic arrangement, let alone one of Fuma’s solos. He gets caught up in his deliberation, reimagining Fuma’s songs into stripped down versions.

            A blanket of darkness descends on them suddenly, as the lights and screens onstage are shut off. It lasts for a breath and a half, until a warm white spotlight is cast on the far end of the stage. It illuminates Fuma, perched in front of a grand piano.

            With no warning or preamble, he hits the keys that produce an introductory melody that Kento can’t place. He had listened to their band’s entire discography the minute he and Fuma got together, memorizing every ditty down to the hidden bonus tracks and unrecorded singles. When Fuma graces his ears with a vocal accompaniment, it becomes clear that he’d never heard this song prior to tonight.

            Fuma’s song plays out like an appallingly sentimental love letter that would normally have the singer gagging. His lyrics are smattered with allusions and references, showing a blatant disregard of whether the masses can uncover the identity of the person who inspired the song.

            There are hints that are fainter than whispers, like a nod to a rooftop rendezvous, or a line worked in about red strings, which could allude to any one of twelve guys. But then there are hints heavier than anvils, like how Fuma lost to his unknown addressee during their very first encounter, or the exceptionally sappy line about watching an endless cycle of sunsets side-by-side, knowing it would never lose its splendor. There’s also the fact that he’s playing the piano, a major clue in and of itself.

            That last one might be the worst perpetrator in this full-scale attack aimed at Kento’s heart, even more so than the devastating sweetness in the words and the gentle, beautiful way they’re sung. Fuma’s piano-playing is clumsy and interspersed with errant notes, and when the camera zooms in on his fingers, it only serves to magnify the unwieldly way his hands skitter across the keys as if giving chase. Yet Kento’s sure he’ll never witness a performance of this caliber for as long as he lives, and knows that all else that follows this will pale in comparison.

            When Fuma ends his song (not with a bang but with an unintentional tinkling note), he’s met with enthusiastic applause. Kento might be the only one not clapping until his palms are raw, because the heels of his hands are busy pressing against his face, absorbing the moisture clinging to his eyelashes.

 

\- X -

 

            “That’s three strikes – three strikes at once!” Kento roars as he barges into one of the rooms backstage, security trailing him and seeing him through to his destination, as per their orders. The other occupants in the dressing room turn to look at each other with amused leers, and take their cue to vacate the premises after exchanging pleasantries with Kento.

            Fuma would be concerned if Sou hadn’t messaged him to be extra cautious of Kento, who reportedly came close to hyperventilating out of happiness during the surprise solo. There’s another good sign in the form of a hulking, garish mass of flowers that Kento is thrusting into Fuma’s face.

            Fuma takes the bouquet from him without comment and places it on his desk. “Are you going to tell me what the three strikes are?”

            Kento makes a face like he can’t believe Fuma has to ask. “Strike one: you had me bawling in a front row seat. How could you do that to me? Marius took it upon himself to calm me down. Yeah, _Marius_. I bet he enjoyed every minute of it.”

            Fuma prays that the cameramen are safekeeping secret footage of Kento’s reaction to his performance. “Good for him, he can grow from a little role reversal now and then.”

            “And then! You go and make my gesture look utterly meaningless by comparison.” Kento points derisively to the bouquet he brought, and Fuma picks them up again, holding them to his chest, suffused by an odd pang of sympathy for the inanimate object. “Are you for real? Who sets the bar that high? What am I supposed to do now, come up with a curriculum about your life and teach it to my class in musical form? …Wait, should I?”

            Fuma watches Kento consider the flippant brainchild he’d made in jest. “Why, are you trying to get fired?”

            “Shut up. That brings me to the third strike.” Kento moves closer so he’s all up in Fuma’s face. He takes the bouquet in Fuma’s hands and drops it to the floor, deaf to the latter’s protests. “You went to another teacher for piano lessons! You realize I can’t take this betrayal lightly?!”

            “He was a colleague of my dad’s.”

            “Is he better-looking than me?”

            “What kind of question is that? You loon. Anyway, he was in his 50’s.”

            “I can see you blatantly deflecting the question.”

            “I can see you blatantly fishing for compliments.” Fuma softly places his lips over that pout, because it’s right there and because he can. “I don’t know how many more songs I need to write if you still feel the need to ask such questions.”

            Kento hugs him with so much force like he’s really trying to crack Fuma’s ribs. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. How was your day?”

            Fuma laughs with what little breath Kento hasn’t squeezed out of him. “It was the best. Lives are the best. I fucked up a few times, though.”

            “Impossible. I was watching you closely the entire time and you were amazing. Your voice seriously makes me melt,” Kento gushes. He can’t help himself when he appends his assessment with one negative comment. “You could use a better piano teacher, though.”

            “I guess I wouldn’t mind a better-looking one.”

            “Aw, you said it anyway! How are you so cute?” It’s Kento’s turn to steal a kiss, and they make an unvoiced, shared decision to turn it longer than the previous one.

            “You’re somehow turning us into a grosser couple on an hourly basis,” Fuma murmurs when they break apart.

            “I’m not the one who went and sang all his feelings in front of thousands of people.” Kento means to sound teasing, but he’s far closer to enamored and awestruck. “I hereby cede my title of romance expertise to you.”

            “I wasn’t aware you had that, but you can keep it. I insist.”

            Kento sighs in the exact tone of a pining romcom protagonist. “I guess I really will need to take the train out next weekend to catch your show. You’ll just have to explain to my landlord why I can’t pay my rent this month.”

            “Why can’t you pay your rent?”

            “Are you kidding me? The posters, the binders, the penlights, the bags… I’m on a teacher’s salary, might I remind you.”

            “Don’t buy the other members’ shit – that’ll help.” Fuma knows his members wouldn’t take his suggestion personally, if they ever found out. “You’re not dating my entire band.”

            “Hey, if I can’t be the most romantic boyfriend the world has ever known – thanks for that – then I’m going to be the number one obsessive fan.”

            “Again, you don’t have to be my _band’s_ number one fan. It’s a little disconcerting that I have to remind you of that.”

            “Now you’re the one fishing for compliments. You know my everything starts and ends with you. But you make it impossible to have my fill.” Kento reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together as Fuma shakes his head, both moved and perturbed by the preposterous lines Kento never could give up. “Speaking of never getting enough of you, is there any way I could possibly persuade the world’s best boyfriend into playing an encore of his solo, right now, just for me?”

            Fuma hesitates. “The piano might be in storage between shows, so we’d have to ask the staff for the keys.”

            “It’s fine. Let’s go ask. If there’s space, I’ll sit under the piano.”

            “ _Under_ the piano? How’s that supposed to help – oh.” That took far too long for Fuma to comprehend, what with Kento’s voice dropping a shade huskier. “On second thought, I can practice on the electronic keyboard – it’s just down the hall.” With renewed urgency, he tugs on their joined hands and leads the way.


End file.
